TOM shrugs. Then SYLVESTER points over his shoulder, Throwing up.
Oh for Christs sake. She nods. Get him.
But-
Now!
Robots, arguing. OK, OK SYLVESTER hurries out, feet scuffing on the floor.
Get her on the table.
TOM grabs her by the collar and waistband of her jammies and hauls her off the ground. Wriggle and Ill bloody drop you on your head, understand?
She stays very still. Good girl.
Good Little Girl.
Thump TOM dumps her on the table. Holds her there with a heavy hand in the middle of her back.
WILLIAM, the lady monster, stands over her. Stop crying. If you behave yourself itll all be over soon.
The door clunks.
Jenny blinks away the tears. Its SYLVESTER, back with another monster. This one has COLIN written on his chest. Hes carrying a little plastic box.
WILLAM doesnt look at him. Get on with it.
COLIN clears his throat. I Erm Look, its just I mean, do we have to? Can we not just send the papers another photo or something?
You saw what theyre saying on the news.
But Ive never done Shes just a little girl.
I know what she is. Now do your bloody job. Or do you want me to tell David you wont? Is that really what you want?
But I-
WILLIAM grabs him by the front of his crumply white suit. What fucking good are you if you cant do a simple bloody procedure?
But amputating isnt just Theres the risk of infection, MRSA, septicaemia, blood clots, shock, what if-
Pull your fucking weight.
She lets go and he steps back. Stares down at his blue feet. Then nods.
You need to roll up her sleeve.
Fire bites her shoulders as TOM twists her arm, dragging her jammie sleeve up to her armpit.
Please no. Please no. Please no.
COLIN puts the plastic box down on the table. Opens it. She can see shiny sharp things sparkling inside. Then he takes out a tiny jar and a jaggy needle. He goes back in for a little foil packet, tears it open and pulls out a little tissue. Wipes it against the inside of her elbow, it makes the skin go all cold.
Then he fills up the jaggy needle. Im sorry
A hard scratchy feeling, then a stabbing pain, like being stung by a bee.
Another wipe. We need to give it a minute.
She blinks.
The bee sting doesnt hurt any more. I still dont think-
No ones asking you to think, Colin.
Blink. Blink.
Shes in the playground on the roundabout, spinning faster and faster, round and round, trees and houses and monsters whooshing past. Blurry plastic faces, muzzy booming Cybermen voices. Fuzzy warmth spreading between her ears.
She blinks, but her eyes wont open again.
Chapter 20
So why did she have your name written on her? Chief Inspector Young sat back in his seat and surveyed Logan over the expanse of his desk. The Professional Standards office was empty, except for the two of them: three desks; framed diplomas and handshake photos on the walls; a case of legal textbooks and policing manuals; and the clinging reek of spearmint.
Young had rolled up his sleeves, exposing a pair of huge hairy arms. But then he was big all over, like a rugby player or a professional boxer. Or a mob enforcer. Pale scar tissue made ripples across his knuckles. Definitely not the sort of man youd want to fuck with.
Logan puffed out his cheeks. Best guess? Someone thought she wouldnt remember who to ask for otherwise. But the idiots didnt even write it upside down so she could read it. Mind you, given how off her face she was
The Chief Inspector drummed his fingertips on the desktop, the tendons and muscles dancing beneath the fur of his forearms. And tell me, Sergeant, why did she think youd hand the drugs over to her?
Because shes an idiot too? Logan shrugged. Shes convinced the people her boyfriend bought the stuff from are going to hurt him if he doesnt come up with the money. What else is she going to do?
Hmm Young stopped making thumpitta-thumpitta noises on the desktop. And have you put anything in place?
Well, Shuggies wanted on drugs charges from the Thursday morning raid, and its pretty obvious hes still in contact with Trisha. So Ive advised DI McPherson to put her under surveil-lance. Another shrug. Its his case.
I suppose theres always hope. Young started drumming again. Weve not seen you up here for a while, Logan. I think Superintendent Napiers missing you.
Really, sir? He glanced over his shoulder at the Arch Bastards desk. All neat and tidy, everything carefully arranged in straight lines.
The Chief Inspector looked off into the middle distance. Tell me hows Acting Detective Inspector MacDonald getting on?
Silence.
Logan shifted in his seat. In what way, sir?
Is he settling in all right? Getting on with his colleagues? Can be very stressful, suddenly moving up from DS to DI like that. Young wouldnt make eye contact.
Im sure hes coping fine.
Good. Good. A pause. What with the McGregor case and everything?
Fine. Couldnt be better. Doing a great job.
Another pause.
Well, then Ill let you get back to your sex offenders.
Dodgy Petes wasnt exactly what youd call a watering hole for the bright young things. More a hospice: palliative care for alcoholics on their way to a booze-soaked oblivion. But it was a two-minute walk from the Munro House Hotel, and that was good enough for Steel.
The scuffed linoleum made sticky noises, trying to hold onto the soles of Logans shoes as he followed her over to the bar. It was busy in here for a change: a dozen people scattered in pairs about the low room, staring up at a widescreen TV mounted on the wall. The Aberdeen versus VfB Stuttgart live from Germany: two-nil to the home team.
The barman was huddled at the far end of the long hard-wood bar, holding a muttered conversation with a thin girl in cargo pants and a camouflage hoodie. There was something laid out on the surface between them, but Logan didnt have time to see what it was before she snatched it up and stuffed it into the black rucksack at her feet.
Steel thumped her hand down on the bar and clambered onto a stool the red vinyl held together with grey duct tape. Hoy, Pete, stop perving up that young sex-pot and make with the drinkies.
The huge man sniffed. Then turned and lumbered over, a red Aberdeen University sweatshirt stretched to ripping point over his belly. Pete ran a hand through his Santa-on-an-off-day beard, and squinted at the three of them. Usual?
Steel nodded. And a couple brace of Grouse too.
You paying for these?
The inspector stuck out her bottom lip. Pete, Im shocked. Are you suggesting Grampians finest come in here looking for freebies?
Bloody right I am. He grabbed a couple of pint glasses from under the counter, stuck one under the Stella tap, the other under the Deuchars IPA. Then sniffed in Rennies direction. What about the sunburnt wee loon?
The constable stuck out his chest. Ill have a pint of-
Hell have a Diet Coke. Steel pulled out her fake cigarette. Driving, remember?
But Guv-
Give him a packet of prawn cocktail too.
Dodgy Pete stuck the pint of IPA onto a curling cardboard coaster, then picked up a couple of short glasses and clunked a double shot in each from the Grouse whisky optic, making a great show of waiting till the little plastic container filled all the way up each time. Anything else?
The girl in the camouflage hoodie grabbed her rucksack and slipped quietly out of the pub.
Steel turned and stared after her. Youre no up to anything dodgy, are you Pete?
My daughter. Not that its any of your business. He rapped a knuckle on the sticky bar. Now are you paying for these or not?
Lighten up, eh, Pete? No my fault the Shop Cops did you for serving short measures, is it?
They took their drinks through to the snug pretty much a walk-in cupboard with two bench seats and a table wedged into it. Steel crumpled down, sighed, then took a huge gulp out of her pint. Cant hang about tonight, boys, Im on a promise.
Logan pulled the reports out of his pocket and stuck them on the table. Ninety-six RSOs interviewed today So far weve got three with possible access to veterinary surgeries. No hospitals turns out the NHS frowns on registered sex offenders creeping about the wards.
Steel had a scratch. Whos doing the vets?
The whisky tasted like a peat fire, burning its way across Logans tongue, making his gums tingle. Dodgy Pete mustve stopped watering the booze down too. DI Evans. No ones reported any thiopental sodium missing.
Rennie crammed in a mouthful of crisps. What if they bought it off the internet?
Steel stared at him. Drink your Diet Coke. Things are sodding complicated enough as it is. Then back to Logan. You sure about the hospitals?
McPherson says-
Gods sake, hes no doing that as well is he? Talk about abandon-bloody-ship. Ill have a word with Finnie, see if we cant get someone else to She creased her face up. Marmiteflavoured arseholes. Hes no speaking to me any more.
Logan frowned. Yeah, about that why were we winding Maguire up? Hes not on the register, I checked.
Because She turned and looked at Rennie. Then dug out a handful of change. Here, go get yourself some more crisps.
But I dont-
Then go play on the bandit, something. Pause. Bugger off for five minutes.
Rennie picked a couple of pound coins from the pile, then scooped up his crisps and drink. Be like that, then.
She waited till hed left the little room. We gave Mr Baldy a hard time because Acting DI MacDonald was in charge of that bit of the investigation. And I dont trust him. OK? She held up a hand. Its no that hes dodgy, its just that hes completely fucking hopelessly out of his depth. And I know Finnie thinks the same, or hed no have been there holding his hand at the church.
I see
Laz, I know you lot in the Wee Hoose are thick as thieves, but theres a wee girls life at stake. Im no sodding about with this one.
Fair point. So what about McPherson?
Steel pulled a face, then took a swig of whisky. You leave Disaster to me, well-
The rest was drowned out by cheering coming through from the main bar. GO ON MY SON!, RUN YOU WEE BUGGER!, GO ON, GO ON!
The volume on the telly was cranked up the roar of the crowd booming out of the speakers. And its Hansson to Paton. Up the outside and he crosses to Gibson Gibson shoots and-
Sudden silence.
AWWW! FUCKS SAKE! NO NOW!, PETE! FIX THE FUCKING TELLY!, DID HE SCORE?
Logans phone rang he dragged it out and checked the caller display: Colin Miller.